


love like you.

by AlwaysInSonder



Series: Plance Anthology [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/F, F/M, Happy birthday to my smol green child, idk what this is but i hope yall enjoy, married plance, pidgance, plance, toothrotting fluff but heartcrushing angst as well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:28:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysInSonder/pseuds/AlwaysInSonder
Summary: She wishes it isn’t so painful to say goodbye and longs for the day she would never have to worry if he’ll come home to her. But when he whispers ‘te quiero’ against her skin and a deep pain pulls in her chest as his kisses trail down her neck, she realizes it’s the price she pays for being unequivocally in love.
Relationships: Background Nadia Rizavi/Veronica, Lance/Pidge (Voltron), Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Series: Plance Anthology [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1262111
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	love like you.

**Author's Note:**

> Studying was stressing me out so I was listening to Steven Universe songs to help me relax. The song "Love Like You" by Rebecca Sugar (yup, the end credits song) came on and I'm suddenly struck with how much of Plance song it is, especially from Pidge's POV. I tried to channel those vibes from the song into this story. 
> 
> As it is typical of me, posted at 6am (I was up all night writing this lmao. I have a live lecture in like 4 hours wtf) so please pardon any silly mistakes.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

Icy wind whips through her hair and pulls her beanie off. Pidge squeaks, desperately clawing at air as it twirls away in the wind, falling into a graceful heap in a pile of sludge left by her jeep. She sighs in defeat and turns her attention back to the gates. No use to having a semi-frozen cap on her head now. 

Her gloved fingers tremble as she clumsily attempts pressing the security code to the gate. A frustrated sigh escapes her lips as a defiant beep comes out in response as she tries another combination. It’s been  _ years _ since she’d last come here and considering she hasn’t bothered telling any of her family where she’s going to be for the next couple of months, she really should not be surprised that one of them - she strongly suspects it’s her mother, the only who disapproves of her disappearing acts - had changed the code. If her fingers hadn't lost their ability to hold things for more than three seconds, she would have bothered reaching for her laptop and linking up her code breaker. 

Of all days to forget to pack her bayard.

After a few moments of pensive silence, shifting her duffel bag from one shoulder to the next, she perks up and tries another code. The machine beeps in approval and the gates swing open. Relief overcomes her as she hoists her duffel higher on her shoulder, reaching behind her for her suitcase as she makes her way inside. 

As she walks up the curved driveway, towards the cottage nestled among the pine trees, the lights lining the paved road slowly light up one by one, following her slow trudge up. She grunts as she lifts her luggage over a small gathering of rocks, cursing her lack of foresight in hiring a groundskeeper to clear the area before her arrival. 

The ever falling snow is the least of her worries. The heated driveway, the carefully positioned drainage points that collect the melted snow and convert it to usable water takes good care of that. The nearest shop is at least a forty minute drive and at this point, she’s too tired to go back to shop for food. She’s _starving_ and regrets flouncing out of her home without a pack of instant ramen at the very least. 

When she finally reaches the front door, she allows herself to sit on the steps, looking over the lands with a sigh. Blindingly white plains greet her, dotted with the occasional cluster of tall, coniferous trees that sometimes surrounded a cottage like hers. There is perhaps only a few minutes of daylight left and a grim darkness quickly settles over the vast lands. Plumes of smoke escape the chimneys of one some distance away and it settles the unease in her heart for a moment. It is comforting, in it’s own way, to know the little home housed a family, warm and safe in their little alcove. 

She reaches for her duffel and rummages through it, pulling out the steel canister of hot coffee she had filled at a gas station on her way over. 

The steam clouds her lenses as she pours herself a cup, pulling it off to take a careful sip. Warmth blooms through her, warming her body from the inside out as she takes more slow sips. 

If it weren’t for the frosty weather and her frozen tastebuds, she would have drained the entire flask down the sink. The coffee’s offensively horrendous and it makes her long for a particular roast. One made by Cuban beans and hands so skillful, the very thought of him warms her more than any cup of joe could. It’s the only brew she savors rather than gulp down. Often with dark blue eyes watching her from the rim of her mug.

She shakes her head to rid herself of those thoughts and finishes off the last of the bitter drink, wincing as her tastebuds finally come to life to pick up the acrid aftertaste. 

Pidge lifts herself up, grunting a little as the weight of the many layers of her clothes almost sends tumbling backwards, but she straightens herself on a column. She almost turns towards the door, eager to escape into her intelligent-heated systems and satellite internet, but the sounds of tires on slush and a car engine sputtering to a halt makes her pause. 

She curses and fumbles with the door, groaning as yet another code-locked door greeted her. This is entirely her mother’s doing, she is sure now. She tries the code for the gate and of course, it fails miserably. Her fingers clumsily fiddled with the buttons, trying all possible convoluted combinations only her mother could think of and finally punches the door in frustration. 

Behind her, she hears boots stepping slowly up the wood stairs. Her heart stops for a moment as the footsteps stop right behind her and she gulps, ignoring the telltale urge to turn around and look into dark blue eyes that made her knees weak. 

But she resists. She’s still mad at him.

“The code’s 03042095.” 

Pidge’s heart races as the familiar voice comes up by her ear. She lifts her hand shakily and enters the combination, blanking as the lock unclicks. 

“...What’s March fourth?” she asks softly, still refusing to turn around.

“It’s your birthday,” she can almost hear his smile. “In European format.”

She slaps her hand to her forehead as he chuckles. Trust her mother to know that she’d miss something as obvious as that. And  _ of course _ she will only reveal it to her favorite son-in-law.

Pidge drags her luggage into the cottage, swatting away his hands before he could reach for them. The lights are already on, with soft orange light filling the toasty warm cottage with a cosy ambience.

“I don’t need someone to chop firewood y’know,” she gestures to the automated heater designed to look like an antiquated fireplace. Flames flicker convincingly as it engulfed virtual logs. “And there’s a burglar alarm loud enough to alert the cattle the next town over.” 

“I’m aware,” he answers patiently, dropping his own duffel by his feet. She can feel his gaze on the top of her head and it infuriates her how calm he is.

“Why are you here then?” she asks tepidly, swiveling back into the cottage and towards the desk pushed to the side. She pulls off her mittens and immediately commences setting up her workstation, fully intending on showing him that she’s going to stay here and that she absolutely will _not_ return home with him.

“Because you’re my wife,” Lance sighs, pulling open the curtains to let in the last of the daylight into the cottage. “And as much as I’m sure this fancy, high-tech house can keep you safe and warm, I’m more worried that you’re going to die if someone doesn’t make you eat something other than coffee and peanut butter cups.” 

His words hang between them as she quietly opens her laptop, pointedly ignoring him. 

Of course, that does not deter him. From behind, she hears his approach and tenses. He steps up behind her and his arms curve around her, pulling her into a tight hug. “And... I miss you.” 

Tears well in her eyes, especially with how his voice softens as he calls her his wife, but she blinks them away as soon as they come. She’s not going to fall for his usual tricks. She is determined to be angry and even if she  _ knows _ she’s being immature, she just wants to be by herself and away from everyone and everything. 

_ Especially _ her husband.

"If you really did miss me because I was gone for twelve hours, then why did you accept a mission that will keep you from me for twenty-four fucking  _ months _ ?"

She hears a tired sigh and even without facing him, she knows he's rubbing his eyes. She's being petulant, she knows. But she's hurt and she wants him to know that as well, as cruel as it is. 

She pries his hands off her body and she’s feeling instant regret for the loss of warmth as soon as she peels off her jacket. Even with intelligent-heating technology, two layers of sweaters  _ and  _ thermals underneath, Pidge doesn’t know why she still feels chilled to the bone. She sourly wonders how much of her mental state has to do with it. Her heart’s frozen over now and as much as Lance will inevitably sweet talk her out of her temper tantrum, she’s determined this time to keep it that way. 

In the manner only a man crazy enough to love her could, Lance decides to make himself useful. He deposits their bags into the singular room in the cottage - he’s about to have a  _ very  _ rude awakening if he thinks they are going to share a bed that night - and heads out again to no doubt purchase supplies. She does not know how long he intends to stay with her. Having been born in the tropics, her husband never lingers long where it is bitingly cold. 

She goes about her evening as she usually does: making herself a giant pot of coffee and carefully setting up her workstation with her tools scattered systematically over a workbench organized in a way that only makes sense to her. It only takes a few minutes of tapping away on her laptop for the feeling to return to her digits and for a moment, she feels the calm she desperately sought in coming here.

It’s gone as soon as he returns. 

Pidge ignores his cheery greeting and his tempting revelation that he had managed to procure ingredients for  _ ropa vieja _ . That is  _ exactly  _ the kind of dish she craves now and she curses his soul for knowing every little button to push to soften her mood. 

She’s determined not to eat his cooking.

Pidge drowns out his humming as he cooks dinner with headphones, ignoring the urge to go help him as she usually would have. But as soon as the delicious aromas wafts through her workspace and her stomach betrays with what is possibly the  _ loudest  _ growl registered from a human, she knows resistance is futile.

She doesn’t put up a fight when he calls her over to eat.

His gaze rests on her evenly as they ate. Pidge very nearly scarfs down the food. It’s the only proper meal she’s had in the past day and it occurs to her that without her husband around to make sure she’s nourished, she’ll be a skeleton by the time he returns.

“Good?” Lance asks casually. She hears the smile in his tone and she desperately hopes it isn’t smug. She lifts her eyes to dare a peep and it momentarily paralyses her when she sees him giving her a look of such unconditional devotion. Pidge quickly diverts her gaze back to her now-finished bowl feeling her cheeks flush. Her body’s wonderfully warmed by the meal and the obvious love that went into it. She gives a quiet nod and makes to leave the table, but Lance stops her with a hand and quietly replenishes her bowl.

His hand doesn’t leave hers as he ladles her more serves and spoons more side dishes and rice. 

“Eat,” he commands while squeezing her hand. “I have a bad feeling you won’t be doing much of it when I’m not around.”

Pidge focuses on his hand over hers. Her eyes fixate on his ring finger where the simple gold band rested. It’s matching pair rested on her own and it makes her think of their wedding day. 

“Now that you’re not hangry, can we talk?” Lance teases gently, his fingers curling around her hand. It’s warm against hers and she could only wonder how he basically  _ radiates _ heat in this blistering cold. In winters such as these, she curls up in his arms, basking in the comforting warmth from his body.

Now she’ll have two winters to weather on her own. Along with cold sheets and a half-empty bed.

“...Pidge?” Lance tries again gently. She finally lifts her gaze and instantly, she melts as she meets his eyes.

It’s the same look he’d given her when they said their vows; together on a private beach in Varadero, with no one else but Keith awkwardly reading through an officiant’s script through video call and their witnesses, Hunk, Coran and Allura beaming giddily behind him.

And that’s when the dam collapses.

She curls in on herself as her face crumples and streams of moisture run freely down her cheeks, dripping off her chin. It’s a wonder she’s held them in for the entire week. Lance freezes but he’s on his feet in seconds, rounding the dinner table to kneel next to her. 

He hesitates for a moment, as though unsure how to comfort her. Pidge shifts away from him, resting her face in her hands, willing herself to stop the tears. But of course, it’s to no avail. 

A soothing hand runs down the back of her head and rubs circles on her back. He doesn’t speak and for that, she’s glad. Her mind’s too fuzzy for a fight and knowing herself, she’s going to be dead  _ exhausted _ after sobbing like she is now. 

It takes a full ten minutes before she feels the tears subside and the slightest amount of catharsis. She hiccups a little and Lance fingers thread through her hair. He reaches for her glass of water and brings it to her lips, letting her take a few gulps to soothe her dry throat. She feels like a child at this point; pouty and teary-eyed, needing to be fed and soothed. 

She’s going to be utterly helpless without him.

“You promised no more,” Her voice cracks. She sniffles, looking to the floor with a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment with herself for breaking so quickly. “You  _ promised _ you won’t take dangerous and long missions anymore.” 

“I know,” he soothes, a hand gently cupping her cheek and swiping away the moisture with a thumb. He’s knelt next to her chair, looking earnestly up at her face. “But I can’t turn them down. You know that.” 

“ _Why_? ” 

Lance looks away, a distant look in his eyes. He considers a thought and closes his eyes with a sigh, as if acquiescing to a voice in his head.

“I...I owe someone.” He runs a hand through his hair and Pidge realises for the first time how unkempt he looked. There are dark smudges underneath his eyes and he looks far more tired than she has ever seen him. Their quarrel took him out as much as it did to her. “Emma. She took an emergency mission for me to the Rondovian sector so I could go on our honeymoon. She missed out on her niece’s birth because of it.” 

Pidge hadn’t realized her hands were fisted till she slowly eased her fingers. Tension slowly melts away from her muscles and guilt fills her chest to replace the anguished pain. Lance leans forward to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

“And it’s not just that. Her wife and her just adopted a kid and it didn’t feel right tearing her away. I mean, she  _ just  _ met the kid. I can never imagine doing  _ that  _ to you.” 

The last of the resentment in her vanishes like a puff of air and in its place, came great shame. Trust him to be as noble as that. Her mistake for marrying a good man.

“But... two whole  _ years… _ ”

“It would have been more than five if it weren’t for your ships,” he nudges her gently. “How many Captains can brag about that, hm? Commandeering an  _ amazing  _ ship built by their wife.”

“Nadia can,” she sniffles, pouting still. “I couldn’t have done most of the estimations without Veronica’s help." She drags a hand over her eyes, brushing her tears away. "And  _ she's  _ not leaving her wife for two whole years."

" _ Nadia _ just got back from an eight month mission," Lance patiently explains. "And she's back in training for the new fleet your dad rolled out." 

Pidge sighs again, pouting still. “I shouldn’t have talked you out of that one.” 

Lance opens his arms and Pidge hesitates. It lasts all of a few seconds as she pulls herself out of the chair and into his arms. He cradles her tight and her arms wrap around him just as much, afraid to let go. 

* * *

On the first night, they are treated to a splendid aurora. 

Ethereal, green wisps dance across the sky in a manner that looks like magic, even when Pidge knows it’s nothing more than the pure science that she loves. 

The man that she loves, maybe just a _smidge_ more than science, sighs happily next to her. He pulls her closer to her side, his gaze never tearing away from the window on their ceiling, treating them to breathtaking views of the galaxies above.

"When I'm back, it'll be spring." He whispers. " I'll be here again, waiting for you."

“Assuming I still have a husband,” Pidge rolls her eyes, fiddling distractedly with the strings of his hoodie, pouting still. “Nadia swears James isn’t dating anyone because he’s still hung up on me. Don’t think I won’t remarry, mister.” 

Lance bursts out laughing. A hearty laugh that shows no resentment, nevermind her barb. He surprises her further with a kiss, twinning his fingers in the ends of her hair and tilting her head up to deepen it. The other hand is warm against her cheek, cradling her head gently. She’s gasping for air when he finally pulls away. Her cheeks flush and her body yearns to feel his bare skin against hers.

“Tell him he’ll have to wait a lot longer,” he murmurs against her lips, looking into her eyes with the same dangerous gaze that will have her panties around her ankles in seconds. “I’d stab the reaper, Bob, whoever the fuck it is that I have to fight if it means getting back to you.”

If it isn’t for the way he looks at her - the same intensity in his eyes when she first kissed him, when they first made love or when he proposed - she knows she would have burst out laughing. The image of Lance tackling Bob - which she doesn’t doubt he  _ will  _ do - is always going to be hysterical. 

A short laugh does emerge, but it dies in her throat as his arms close around her and he leans forward for another dizzying kiss. She knows she’s being buttered up...but she  _ loves  _ it. Pidge curses herself for how weak she is, cajoled with one kiss and few sweet words. 

His thumbs delicately trace over her cheekbones; lips pulling away to press warm kisses over her brow, her cheek and down to her neck, chipping away at every barrier she’s thrown up since knowing of his mission with the careful precision only he can. He leads her towards the couch, letting her straddle him as he fumbles with her zipper, his warm lips never leaving hers.

She wishes it isn’t so painful to say goodbye and longs for the day she would never have to worry if he’ll come home to her. But when he whispers ‘ _ te quiero _ ’ against her skin and a deep pain pulls in her chest as his kisses trail down her neck, she realizes it’s the price she pays for being unequivocally in love. 

* * *

_ Two weeks later _

_ The first day of Spring _

It’s finally the day. 

Pidge’s eyes water, but she does well in keeping herself calm. She’s far too drained - in the most positive sense of the word - from their lovemaking the night before and only mere minutes prior. Lance’s breaths have evened out and his fingers run down the curve of her spine. There’s a sheen of sweat on both of them and his scent hangs thickly around her. Warm, oaky and uniquely his; she doesn’t know if she could fall asleep surrounded by the frigid, detergent-scented sheets back in their home. 

Two whole weeks in their little love nest in the woods, braving the last of a frigid, stubborn winter had passed like a whirlwind. It makes her wish she’d savored each moment more with him, committing every aspect to memory. 

“Will you see me off?” Lance whispers. It’s nearly a superstition for her, to never see him off on his voyages. After all, the last time she had attended one, her brother and father disappeared. This time, however, it was no mere three month mission. 

Pidge bites her lip. If there’s one thing she hates more than goodbyes, it’s  _ public _ goodbyes. 

“I’d be a  _ really  _ shitty wife if I don’t go, huh?” 

“You don’t have to,” Lance presses a lazy kiss to her forehead. “I might prefer that you don’t come either.” Pidge immediately lifts her head and her husband laughs at her affronted look. “Only because I don’t want my last memory of you teary-eyed and stone-faced.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be all smiles,” Pidge scoffs, snuggling back against his chest. Her heart’s beginning to pound. She has made it a point to avoid looking at the clock, but lifting her head has given a peak at the bedside alarm. Noon draws frustratingly closer and soon he’ll be gone.

He had a long drive to the airport and she’s not even sure if she could make  _ that _ journey but Lance has assured her that he far prefers her remaining in the cottage than drive back alone in the night. 

He exhales heavily and dread fills her as his caresses turn more gentle. He shifts her body to the bed, hovering over her. His sleepy blue eyes look longingly into hers and she knows he’s in as much pain as she is. “I need to get ready-”

“What if I program an AI to steer the ship?” She interrupts, knowing it is far too late now. “After your flight panel history. They won’t need a pilot then.”

“I don’t doubt you could,” he nuzzles her cheek. “But I think it’s even beyond your own god-like abilities to whip something up by tonight.” 

Comfortable silence falls between them as Pidge curls up in defeat. 

“I never thought I’d be the clingy one,” she mutters under her breath. 

“You aren’t,” Lance chuckles. “You came all the way out here to pout instead of the guest bedroom like any other person would.” He presses an affectionate kiss to her lips. “And I, the ever obliging, love-struck puppy, come after you because I’m actually the clingy one.”

Pidge scoffs but is silenced with a deeper kiss and it is only inevitable that his shower includes her.

* * *

“Well,” Lance sighs, zipping his duffel closed. “That’s all there is.” 

She sits on their unmade bed, watching him get dressed. With each layer he pulls on, the sadness threatens to ebb up her throat, but she firmly shoves it down. She refuses to leave him with a parting image of her upset. She can cry all she wants when he’s gone for the next two years.

He turns to her and reaches out for her. Something catches at her throat, but Pidge swallows it down and stands to grasp it shakily. He pulls her into his arms and through the layers of his clothes, he warms her bare body one more time. 

“I’ll be back.”

“If you say so Schwarzenegger.” 

Lance chuckles and holds her impossibly close. 

“Eat real food.”

“Define  _ real _ .”

He gives her a playful pinch.

“Don’t let Griffin anywhere near you.”

Pidge snorts but hugs him tighter. 

“Then don’t leave me a widow.” 

Lips press to her brow, one last time. 

“Never.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Screams, thoughts and kudos always loved <3


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